


Willing to pay

by WritingYandere



Category: Original Work
Genre: Animal Death, Blood, Dark Comedy, Demon Summoning, Gen, Not Beta Read, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 17:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20429351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingYandere/pseuds/WritingYandere
Summary: Oliver Barrow had only wanted what every fourteen year old did.Be famous on social media and make it big on YouTube. But since his current talents hadn't been enough and he really didn't want to put in too much work or wait too long, he tried the next best thing.Making a deal with a demon.





	Willing to pay

“You know, maybe I should’ve thought more about the consequences of selling my soul. It’s just so… boring”, Oliver said before sighing deeply and leaning back against the back of his couch.  
It was a nice couch, white leather, sadly made out of real leather but somehow he couldn’t buy a fake leather one without breaking out into hives.  
“You wanted money and fame, so I gave it to you. You said you were willing to pay any price”, a deep hushed voice whispered into his ear.  
“I should’ve read the fineprint…”

It had been a year since Oliver Barrow had sold his soul. Fame and money was what he wanted, yes, but maybe he should have worded it more precisely. He had just wanted his career as a YouTuber to take off! And now… he didn’t even know what he was. A influencer? Streamer? Weird guy on the internet, people loved for no reason at all?  
He kind of was all of it.

At first he had done some Let’s Plays but had been ignored mostly for his lack of gaming skills. It wasn’t funny to watch a guy fail the first quest of a game. A least not for ten times. So he had given up on that and instead tried to do song covers.  
Being in the middle of puberty hadn’t helped much with that, since his voice was kind or breaking on every third note.   
His next try had been dance covers which had been mildly successful since he had streamed his last training session before filming his first dance cover and managed to break his leg while trying to do a pirouette.   
After that he had had enough and decided to try a more… drastic approach.

Stealing the goat had been kind of exciting, if he was being completely honest. Killing it? Less so. Oliver had never liked the sight of blood and promptly threw up when he managed to eat and artery and blood literally squirted into his face.  
“Oh, well”, he had thought back then. “This should be a good enough equivalent as a bodily fluid. Stomach acids counted, right?”  
After that the ritual went pretty smoothly. Or well, at least everything happened like it had been written on that weird wikihow rip-off.   
When he stepped into the circle, careful not to step on the goat’s corpse but sadly not evading the blood and vomit, the birds stopped singing. Then as he started reciting the summoning spell, the wind picked up and ruined his carefully gelled hair.   
He started to get a bad feeling about this when the hail and thunder started but now it was too late to stop. The voice spoke up, demanding to know what he desired.  
Oliver hadn’t really thought that wording would be this important, so he had only blurted out his most basic desires. Money and fame.  
After stating that with a shaky voice and a feeling like he was about to pee his pants, the voice had questioned if he was willing to pay any price for that. At that point Oliver’s voice had been a bit more steady which made his “I am willing” sound more believable than it was.  
Then everything became hazy…   
He remembered falling to his knees, next to the still bleeding goat corpse and seeing a white hand in front of him, handing him a feather quill.   
“I… don’t have any ink”, Oliver had said in confusion. This had prompted another hand to appear, grabbing his right wrist and turning it over while the other moved his left with the quill against the skin.  
“There is your ink. And here is your contract”, the now hushed voice whispered. Somehow it had sounded tantalizing, making Oliver eager to press the quill down into his skin to draw blood to use as ink.  
On the ground in front of him a dirty old pergament started to practically grow out of the earth. Or more out of the disgusting mix of blood and vomit.  
Maybe it should have surprised him that it appeared to be a neatly typed up contract with conditions and everything on such and old and rotten looking paper, but something inside of him told him it wasn’t important. Just like reading through it wasn’t.  
So he had pressed down the quill and once the tip was covered in red he signed the contract at the bottom.  
Then he got drowsy and felt his eyelids getting heavy. While Oliver felt sleep rushing over him, he heard a deep chuckle.  
According to rules of physics and everything logical, he should have awoken next to a drained goat covered in dirt, vomit and blood. Instead he woke up in his bed.   
Oliver had been confused at first but then simply decided that he must have had one fucked up dream and started to go about his day. Which naturally started with him checking his social media feeds.  
Seeing that he had gained thousands of followers overnight, made him doubt if he had truly woken up or was still dreaming. But soon enough it had turned out to be real when the hushed voice from the day before started whispering to him and congratulated him on a successful contract.  
“While your ritual had been a four out of ten at most, HQ deemed your soul pure enough to accept it anyway. After all you did show potential for corruption. I mean, damn, you killed a goat. Some burned herbs would have been enough.”

“Why didn’t you explain any of the details before you made me sign that contract?”, Oliver asked while starting up his Laptop ready to start another stream of him talking about stupid shit while playing one of the few games he didn’t suck at.  
“Your free will made you sign it, not me”, the voice answered, almost sounding indignant. “And if you had truly cared about the consequences, you would have asked.”  
“I was fourteen!”, Oliver tried to argue but knew that the voice was right. Back then he wouldn’t have cared, arguing that such things wouldn’t happen to him, being to smart or some other bullshit to fall for a demon’s trap.  
But that’s the thing. It had never been a trap. It had been a clean and honest deal that he had asked for and accepted. And now he had to live with the consequences.  
Which included not being able to buy anything made by honest people. Donating was also impossible unless it went to someone without morals.   
Lying only worked if he tried to manipulate other people. If he tried to cheer someone up, he suddenly became brutally honest.  
“Is there any way to get out of this contract?”  
“You really didn’t read anything, right? Haven’t had such a dumb one in a few decades.”  
Oliver swallowed down his sarcastic remark. After all the voice hadn’t denied the possibility.  
“So there is. Come on, tell me”, he demanded. It hadn’t taken him long to learn that the voice didn’t answer requests. It only did what he demanded.  
“Get a new one”, was the almost amused answer, which send a cold shiver down his spine as he opened the streaming site.  
“A new what?”, he asked cautiously.  
“A new soul, moron.”  
Hearing that made him chuckle, sounding more hysterical than truly disbelieving.  
“Yeah sure, I just go and buy a new one! I mean, how the fuck do you even get a soul?”  
“Oh, there are a few ways. Being born for example but you already used that one. You also immediately get a new one if you sacrifice yours for a loved one”, the voice whispered and sounded taunting. After all it only gave him options that weren’t available for him.  
“Sure, only tell me those that I can’t do. Bitch”, Oliver mumbled and fumbled with his headset to check the settings.  
“...or make a contract”, the voice whispered, quieter than ever before.  
He perked up at that staring wide eyed at nothing particular.  
“A contract? With whom? What kind of contract? What is the cost?”  
This time the voice didn’t answer.  
“Hey! Tell me! What contract?! With whom?!”  
Oliver whipped around, even though he knew that he never saw who the voice belonged to.   
“Tell me! Come on, asshole, tell me!”  
Every time he demanded an answer, the anger grew inside of him as did his despair. A horrible feeling creeped up on him, a absolutely devastating fear.  
“TELL ME! PLEASE!”  
Oliver knew that pleading had never worked and never would. But demanding wouldn’t either. Not anymore.  
After all, hours later, he had to face the fact that the voice wasn’t talking anymore. He didn’t know if it left him and was now taunting him with silence, trying to drive him made or promise to never try to get out of the contract or if it was gone for good.  
Something told him it was the latter.


End file.
